Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
I blinked, my lashes heavy with grit, the world swimming into focus like it had been underwater and was only just surfacing.
Zander’s arms were wrapped around me, his chest solid at my back as he helped me sit upright. My head lolled slightly until his hand steadied my chin.
“What happened?” My voice rasped like wind through stone.
“Kaelith’s magic is still unstable. Maybe worse because of where we are,” Zander murmured, his breath brushing my temple. “She… unintentionally siphoned too much from you.”
I winced as I sat straighter. My limbs ached like I’d been through a war and back. Maybe I had. “Okay,” I managed, blinking hard. “But what did she do?”
Zander tilted his head, eyes scanning the space ahead. “She and Hein broke the dreamscape. Whatever trial that was… they tore it apart. Ripped through the enchantment like it was paper.” His gaze lowered to mine. “We’re at the entrance to the Fae Sanctuary now. At least, I assume we are.”
I turned my head, and my breath caught.
The ground beneath us was moss-laced stone that shimmered with faint threads of silver veins—magic-infused rock, older than anything I’d ever seen.
A massive archway loomed ahead, made from twisted blackened tree roots that formed into one seamless structure, covered in ancient glowing glyphs that pulsed softly with life.
Beyond it, lush canopies reached toward the skies, heavy with vines, bright flora, and the soft hum of unseen life.
It felt… alive. Not like the way forests lived. This place breathed with memory.
With waiting.
A waterfall poured down one side of a cliff into a crystalline basin, and above it all, nestled into the rock face like it had always belonged, was a circular gate etched with more glyphs, similar to the ones on the map Remy had studied.
“This place doesn’t just welcome visitors,” I whispered. “It chooses them.”
Zander’s arm curled tighter around me, protective and grounding. “It seems it chose you.”
I pushed myself up from the cool, mossy stone, my limbs trembling beneath the weight of drained magic. Zander steadied me with a hand beneath my elbow, but I shook him off gently. I had to do this on my own.
Kaelith’s eyes locked onto mine from where she stood near the tree-lined edge of the sanctuary’s entrance. She didn’t say anything, not aloud, not in my mind.
It’s okay, I tried to send through the bond.
A sharp pain lanced through my skull like lightning cleaving a cliff in two. I gasped and clutched my head.
“Our telepathic connection has been severed,” Riven said from somewhere behind me. “We have to use our outside voices now.”
I gave a shaky nod, my voice a thread of breath. “Got it.”
Kaelith dipped her head slightly but remained still, her eyes moving slowly. Waiting.
“What do we do next?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.
Remy stepped closer, his fingers still stained with lingering magic from the runes he’d activated.
“I think this is where you and Zander combine your power. The ward ahead is ancient and woven of both Light and Dark Fae magic. It was made to only open to a bonded force. Stormlight and Dark Fire. Together.”
I glanced at Zander, whose face had gone unreadable—eyes locked on the glowing barrier between the arched roots.
“So we will try this again,” I said.
Zander met my gaze. “Yes. But this time, we do it right.”
We walked toward the pulsing barrier, the magic ahead of us thick enough to taste. Static and starlight on my tongue. My fingers found his, and our magic—Stormlight and Dark Fire—rippled in response.
Lightning sizzled over my skin, bright arcs snapping from my fingertips as Kaelith’s power surged through me. Across from me, Dark Fire rolled over Zander’s arms like a living shadow, curling along his frame and licking the air between us with violet-tinted flame.
When our fingers brushed, the Stormlight and Dark Fire reached for one another—twining, twisting, weaving together in a helix of power that shimmered with impossible light. I felt it in my bones. In the marrow. As if the very foundation of who I was hummed in response to Zander’s magic.
Our combined force struck the ward like a blade to tempered glass.
The barrier pulsed once, an echo of resistance, then shattered with a thunderous crack, raining down shards of glowing blue light that evaporated before they hit the mossy earth.
We stepped forward together.
The moment the last of us crossed the threshold, the ward surged back into place, sealing the sanctuary behind us. I turned in time to see a flash, like heat haze, and then an old man appeared before us.
His hair was long, braided with pale threads of silver and light, and his eyes, gods, they were lavender. Like Alahathrial’s. The resemblance was uncanny, though he looked older, weathered by time and wisdom. Ancient and calm.
He inclined his head, eyes locking on mine.
“Welcome, daughter of Loretha.”
My breath hitched. I inclined my head, mirroring his gesture. “Thank you for allowing us entry.”
His smile held a depth of knowing that made my chest tighten. “The Fae Sanctuary protects its own. If it allowed you entry, you are no danger to its inhabitants.”
Zander shifted beside me, silent, respectful.
“Now,” the old man said, eyes sweeping over our group, “I assume you would like to be introduced to the council. Your time here is limited.”
“Yes,” I said, voice calm despite the whirlwind in my chest. “Please.”
The man turned, his robes whispering over the grass as he beckoned us forward.
Behind me, Kaelith let out a quiet huff of steam, her scythes lowering in a rare sign of peace.
The path curved through a grove of ancient trees, their trunks pale and twisted like bleached bone, their leaves glowing with a bluish sheen. The wind barely stirred here, hushed like a breath held too long. In the center of the clearing ahead, a structure rose—if it could be called that.
It looked as though it had grown from the ground itself—arches of stone wound with vines that bloomed despite the fading light, crystalline windows shimmering with starlight though the sun still lingered in the sky. Magic pulsed in the very air, thick and fragrant, settling on my skin like mist.
As we approached, I glanced toward the old man. “What’s your name?”
“Dormeal,” he answered without looking back. “Your dragons must wait outside the Hall of Judicium. They will be provided meat and…entertainment.”
I raised a brow, but Kaelith was already curling in the mossy clearing, her tail flicking with lazy interest.
Inside, the air was cooler, denser with magic. Light filtered down through the crystal-paneled ceiling in twisting hues of violet and gold. The walls themselves glimmered, etched with fae runes that shifted when I blinked.
At the far end of the great hall, six fae sat behind a crescent-shaped table raised above the floor. Each was distinct, one as pale as moonlight with hair like spun frost, another with skin the color of deep moss and robes stitched with feathers. But my eyes locked on the one seated in the center.
He was ancient. Not aged like a man, but worn by the weight of centuries, his face carved from time itself. His voice was a whisper of thunder when he pointed at me.
“You are the Storm Reaper. Granddaughter to the Blood King.”
The air snapped in my lungs. I stepped forward. “I am. And I’ve come for your help.”
“We have little to offer the human world,” he said, voice calm but cutting.
“The Blood Fae are on the cusp of winning the war,” I replied. “They’ve infected King Emlem Rayne with a poison not even our best healers can identify.”
The old man tilted his head. “We may be able to assist in that.”
“And the war?” My voice didn’t tremble. “It is rumored you have a weapon that could help us.”
He turned to the woman seated at his side and whispered something I couldn’t hear. Her eyes darted toward me, curious, thoughtful, before she gave a single nod.
“You will stay the night as our guest,” he said at last. “We will discuss your request and give you our answer in the morning.”
Behind me, I felt Zander step closer. His presence steady. Protective.
And still—I felt the weight of every eye in the room settle on me.
Because I wasn’t just a rider or a Rebec.
I was the Storm Reaper.
And granddaughter to their greatest enemy.
We followed Dormeal out of the Hall of Judicium, our boots barely making a sound on the smooth, silver-veined stone. The moment the heavy archway opened to the outside, we were hit with a wave of briny air, and the unmistakable scent of dragon satisfaction.
Kaelith lounged beside Hein and Katama, half-curled around the carcass of what looked like a massive sea creature, something between a whale and a serpent.
Its hide shimmered with opalescent scales, thick and gleaming with seawater.
Kaelith’s muzzle was streaked with blood, but she looked positively gleeful.
Floating in the air before the dragons were a dozen tiny, winged creatures, flitting back and forth like sparks caught in a sea breeze.
Their bodies shimmered with a bioluminescence—delicate, playful, utterly magical.
The dragons tracked their motions with interest, swatting lazily at the air or snorting clouds of smoke when one darted too close to their noses.
“What are those?” I asked, blinking at the strange little things.
Dormeal smiled, the lines around his lavender eyes deepening. “They are called Celari. Faelight spirits. Curious and harmless. Their magic excites draconic senses and soothes the mind. Your dragons are... clearly entertained.”
Kaelith blew a ring of smoke that drifted after one of the Celari like a lazy predator, though I caught the amused flick of her tail as it wrapped around Hein’s.
“I’ve never seen them so content,” Zander murmured beside me, watching Hein nuzzle against Kaelith’s side.
“Good,” Dormeal said simply. “They may stay here. This is sacred ground for them as well.”